


History

by SaadieStuff



Series: Malex Week 2020 [3]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Forlex broke up a while ago so it's not about that, Forrest is just a good guy, M/M, Malex Week 2020, Post Season 2, discussion of abusive childhoods, sappy/happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:01:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25319479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaadieStuff/pseuds/SaadieStuff
Summary: As far as they've come, history is still a part of them.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, mention of past Alex/Forrest
Series: Malex Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829023
Comments: 28
Kudos: 124





	History

**Author's Note:**

> For Malex Week day 3 fic prompt "I can explain"

“I can explain…” Alex says when he’s caught red-handed by Forrest in the Long family barn with a crowbar. But can he, really?

Forrest raises his eyebrows, but smiles. He approaches Alex and looks at the post he stands next to. 

“Looking to collect a souvenir for Alien Guy? Or should I say, Song Guy?” Forrest asks.

“Uh, yeah,” Alex admits. 

“Then no need to explain,” Forrest says simply. 

“I’m so sorry,” Alex says, “I know I shouldn’t be here… stealing… I--”

“Damn right you shouldn’t,” Forrest scolds playfully, “You should have called me first so I could help you!”

Alex smiles weakly. “You don’t owe me any favours. We broke up.”

Forrest frowns. “But we promised to stay friends.”

“Well, we did for a while, and then…”

“Life got busy. For both of us. It’s okay,” Forrest claps Alex on the arm, grinning mischievously. “So, friends do heists, right?”

“I guess,” Alex chuckles. 

“And friends don’t let friends do heists with inadequate tools,” Forrest teases, nodding at the crowbar. “You need a saw, _at least_.”

Alex cringes and rubs the back of his neck. “I guess I rather wishfully remembered it as being, I dunno, a board that no one would ever miss. I’ve been waiting for Wyatt to get thrown in jail again so I could sneak in, quickly pry it off and get out.”

“All before he gets bailed out.” Forrest shakes his head -- he’s not a fan of his cousin.

“Yeah, exactly. But as soon as I got here I realized this is not some old board. It’s clearly structural.” 

Forrest grimaces and reaches out to touch the large thick post. “Still, Wyatt won’t miss it. To him it’s an old piece of wood. He doesn’t appreciate history.”

“I think he might notice if the barn collapses…”

“More importantly, I think Song Guy might notice if the barn collapses _on top of_ you. ‘Cause you two were making a real go of it last we talked, yeah?”

Alex nods. “Actually… this weekend I’m planning to ask Michael to move in with me. And think he’s going to say yes.”

“That’s awesome. So this is like a housewarming gift,” Forrest says before turning his attention back to the post, furring his brow and inspecting it more closely. “Maybe we could just cut out the chunk with the carvings from the ground to maybe eight feet up? And replace it with some extra support. I know a guy who could help us do it safely.”

“Seriously? You mean it?” Alex asks hopefully. 

“Seriously. You and Song G-- _Michael --_ are poetry. And I’m a sucker for it,” Forrest laughs. 

~~~~~~~~

There’s one last box to choose to unpack, or leave in Alex’s storage room.

Michael hadn’t brought that much with him -- he doesn’t own a lot that Alex doesn’t already have, like kitchen stuff and furniture, so it’s mostly been just his clothes. The rest he left out in the airstream, which now sits parked in Alex’s yard. 

But he knows what’s in this box; it’s one of mementos and papers that he felt safer bringing inside than leaving in the airstream under its increasingly leaky roof. 

He would just tuck it away in the storage room, unopened, but there’s a photo of him and Max and Isobel that he wants to retrieve to put in a frame and place on the mantel, like Alex had suggested he could do with any pictures he wants.

Also in the box is the photo of him and Alex as teenagers, out in the desert, holding guitars. He stares at it, remembering how he’d guzzled an obscene amount of acetone that day so he could take the splint off his hand and pretend everything was alright.

Michael is pleased to find the photo doesn’t hold the same sting that it once did, but as far as he’s come, it still _hurts_ , and that realization is gutting. 

He’s already holding back tears by the time Alex appears in the doorway.

“Dinner is ready,” Alex announces. 

When Michael doesn’t respond, Alex approaches him. 

“What are you looking at?” Alex asks, as he moves to peer over Michael’s shoulder. 

Michael, still silent, moves the photo into Alex’s view.

“Wow, we look so young, huh?” Alex says. 

Michael sniffles. 

“Michael?” Alex questions softly, hands going tentatively to Michael’s arms, and Michael seems to relax some, but there are more sniffles. 

“Hey,” Alex tries, and Michael seems drawn to him, swaying backwards a fraction. 

Alex shuffles forward until his chest is pressed to Michael’s back, his chin resting on Michael’s shoulder. His hands have slid down to cover Michael’s, lacing their fingers and letting Michael wrap their arms around him. 

But Michael can’t hold back a weak sob even as Alex’s embrace settles him. 

“Want to tell me what’s up?” Alex offers gently. 

“I dunno, I’m just still so sad for them. They were kids, and the people who were supposed to love them and take care of them… hurt them.” 

“I know,” Alex says solemnly in complete understanding, encouraging Michael to go on. 

“And… sometimes it just gets to me, you know? As happy as we are now, nothing can change what happened to them. We can’t time travel and pluck them out of their nightmarish childhoods and make it okay.” Michael gulps. “What they went through… that’s their reality, forever.”

Alex makes a soothing cooing noise, squeezing Michael snugly and rocking him in place. He plants soft little kisses on Michael's neck, and his ear, and nuzzles Michael’s cheek with his nose while he takes it all in.

“It’s okay to feel sad,” Alex says after a long moment. “I do too. But those sweet babies aren’t stuck in that time. They know now that they were loved back then. And _are_ loved.”

Michael’s breaths are stuttery, but Alex thinks he can feel Michael nodding. 

“You know I love you so much, right?” Alex murmurs in Michael’s ear.

Michael wiggles in Alex’s arms and Alex loosens his grip so Michael can spin around, while staying close. Michael’s eyes are a little red but the tears have stopped. 

“I love you too.” Michael manages a smile and then kisses Alex on the lips, just a peck, before he tugs him in for a proper hug. 

When they finally slack apart, Michael says, “I guess we should go eat before it gets cold.”

“Actually, first… I have a, um, housewarming gift for you.”

Michael scrunches up his face. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“Yeah, I did. Come on,” Alex says, beginning to lead Michael by the hand out of the room.

Two minutes later, Michael and Alex sit next to each other on the couch with a long, thin, package wrapped in brown paper balanced across their laps. 

“Are you wanting us to take up pole vaulting or…?” Michael teases. 

“Open it,” Alex says gently, sounding a bit nervous.

Michael barely has a corner of paper off before realizing what it is. “Alex…” is all he gets out before he finishes unwrapping. 

Alex watches Michael trace his fingers over the carved names. _Roy, Louise, Nora, Walt,_ and _Walt_ again. 

“I asked Isobel and Maria about it first, since it’s their family too," Alex explains. "They said they had their own height charts when they were kids, and that you should have it. Sanders agreed when I brought it to him. I thought we could take some nice pictures of the carvings though and have prints made for the three of them, if they want.”

Michael’s chin moves a fraction, but that’s all.

“You hate it, don’t you?” Alex says apologetically, wincing. “Too painful...? I’m so sorry, Michael, I thought-- I thought--”

“No,” Michael turns to him, “I don’t hate it. Not at all.” Michael smiles weakly, bringing a hand up to cup Alex’s jaw, tracing Alex’s cheek with his thumb just as he had the carvings. “It’s something -- something _happy_ \-- that my mom touched. It’s just a lot.”

“Oh, good,” Alex says, relieved. “Ah, well, you can do whatever you want with it. Or put it wherever you think it belongs.”

“Thank you,” Michael says, grinning more freely now. He leans in for a kiss, and Alex meets him halfway.

They’re where they belong.

**Author's Note:**

> Catch me crying daily over bb Michael and Alex.  
> (Again didn't spend a lot of time on edits so let me know if you catch typos, etc.)


End file.
